Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
When I glance at her, it’s to find her looking at me.
She scrunches her nose and turns her gaze to her lap. “It means something good can grow in harsh conditions.”
“I think it will suit you.”
“Yeah?” Her gaze flits to mine again. “I also want to add the words ‘stronger than ever’ so it looks like graffiti on the bricks.”
“The words definitely describe you.” Knowing she might have a problem with the tattoo artist, I say, “The guy who did my tattoos is a friend. If you want, I can be there so you’re not alone with him.”
Her teeth tug at her bottom lip before she asks, “There isn’t a woman who can do the tattoo?”
I shake my head. “I can ask around and see if I can find a different place for you?”
Letting out a sigh, she glances down again. “Will you be okay sitting with me?”
“Of course.”
She nods, and while she nervously tugs at the seam of her shirt, she whispers, “Thank you. I really appreciate it.”
Samantha turns her head, and I watch as she stares at my hands. Slowly, I unlink my fingers and lay my hand palm up on my thigh.
‘Take my hand,’ I silently encourage her.
She keeps staring, and as the seconds pass, a weird tension fills my chest. Christ, I’ve never felt such a desperation to touch a woman.
She shifts her hand to her thigh, and another few seconds tick by before she reaches for me and places her palm on mine.
The simple touch sends one hell of an electric bolt up my arm.
The air around us feels charged as I slowly weave my fingers with hers.
For a moment, I forget who I am.
I forget Samantha’s my assistant.
While we both stare at our joined hands, I’m amazed by the emotions Samantha’s touch stirs in my chest. Pride, protectiveness, empathy – but mostly the attraction I felt for her when she first started as my PA comes back in full force.
She’s not the brainless woman I took her for during the first two weeks we worked together.
No. This woman is anything but stupid.
She’s hardworking, intelligent, and so fucking brave it demands my admiration.
Clearing my throat, I ask, “How are you doing?”
Her thumb brushes over mine, then a stunningly happy smile lights up her face. “Surprisingly good.” Her eyes fill with a mischievous expression. “It seems my mystery man has the magic touch.”
Mystery man.
Right. She doesn’t know who I am.
Taking a deep breath, I tighten my hold on her hand. Before silence can fall between us, I ask, “How long have you lived in New York?”
I know the answer, but her mystery man doesn’t.
“A year. I used to live in Texas.”
“Is that where your family is?”
She shakes her head. “No, they’re in Seattle. I try to visit them as often as I can. I’ll see them for the Fourth of July.”
So that’s where she’s going for the couple of days' vacation she requested.
“Have you always lived in New York?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“And your mom?”
I shake my head. “She passed away last year.”
“I’m sorry,” Samantha whispers.
“It’s okay. She was eighty-one when she passed, and she had a full life.”
Her eyebrows fly up, then she asks, “How old are you?”
“Thirty-five. I was a rainbow baby. Just as they gave up on having a child, I came along.”
“Aww…they must’ve loved you so much.” Hearing the warmth in her tone makes a smile tug at the corner of my mouth.
“They did.” I let out a chuckle. “I was lucky.”
“Do you have any other family in New York?”
Nodding, the Cosa Nostra flits through my mind. “Yeah, I have a large family.”
I’m surprised when Samantha leans her head against my shoulder. She lets out a contented sigh, then whispers, “This feels good.”
I turn my face to her and wish I could rip the balaclava off so I can smell her vanilla scent.
“You know what would be funny,” she murmurs.
“What?”
“If we became friends.”
“Why would that be funny?”
She tilts her head back to meet my eyes. “Men and women can’t be friends.”
“Why?”
She shrugs before settling her temple against my shoulder again. “Someone always ruins the friendship by falling in love, then the other party feels obligated to try, and everything just ends up going to hell.”
“It sounds like you’re talking from personal experience.”
“Yeah,” she whispers. “I am.”
Samantha is quiet for a moment before she continues to talk. “I used to work at a hospital in Houston. I met a neurosurgeon there…”
She pauses for a moment, and her hand begins to tremble in mine. Realizing this is hard for her to talk about, I brush my thumb over her soft skin.
“We quickly became friends. He fell in love with me, and because I thought the world of him, I gave a relationship between us a chance.”
I’m so caught up in what Samantha’s saying, I can’t stop myself from asking, “What happened?”